Mater Amabilis
by WaveMasterYami
Summary: It never once occurred to her to actually regret, because in the end, it had been worth it, if only to experience this feeling...a brief overview of the Dolorosa, and what she went through as the first troll to raise a wiggler. One-shot/Drabble-ish


Seriously, guys, writing this made my heart break into a million-no, a _trillion_ itty bitty little pieces. I don't care if this has already been done, I love the Dolorosa, and I _needed to write this, dammit._

**Disclaimer:** I definitely don't own Homestuck. How I wish I did, though. As it is, I'm content with merely being a huge fan.

Now, excuse me while I go cry all the tears.

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><p>She still did not entirely understand why she had taken in the little grub. She had understood that he would not have ever found a lusus for himself with blood that unnatural shade of red. He would have ended up dead before he could have ever lived. But such was the fate of many wigglers who did not survive the trials. What had motivated her to take this one? Some strange form of pity, perhaps…<p>

Yet, no matter how often she questioned herself, she did not regret it. Every time the young troll would direct a sharp smile at her, she felt a strange elation fill her chest cavity. His accomplishments prompted pride in her. Soon, instead of wondering why she had given everything up to raise him, she wondered why it had never occurred to her to raise a wiggler before. She needed not quadrants when she had this boy leaving her feeling so fulfilled.

Her young troll was a bit strange, she admitted to herself one day. He was shedding his innocence day by day, as was expected of their kind, but sometimes…sometimes he had this look to his eyes, as though he had seen so much more than his two sweeps. He asked odd questions, too, about things she had never given much thought to, because that was just the way of things, so why _should_ she question it? There were times when he would learn of a new aspect of troll society, and a deep frown would appear on his face.

"_That isn't right,"_ he would insist, looking so deeply troubled that she would sweep him into her arms, and hold him to her until he was happy again. _"That isn't right. This isn't right. It's not. It's not. It's not."_

It was counterproductive to spoil her little troll by comforting him so, but she found herself caring less and less. She could not pin down the word for her feelings for him, but they were there and utterly compelling nonetheless. She protected him as fiercely as any worthwhile lusus, and went out of her way to make sure he was happy. Her day grew darker with his smile, as though his happiness could keep the harmful sun rays away a few hours longer.

Finally, it was due only to her little troll that she was able to give a name to the feelings she held for him.

"_I love you."_

"_What is love?"_

"_It's like…pity. But better."_

"…_I love you, too."_

Yes, she decided. That was what had prompted her to take this wiggler in, and raise him as her own. The feeling that made her vascular pumping muscle feel as though it would burst with elation, or fall to her gut with grief. Love was the perfect word.

It was a word that pulsed through her veins, giving her the strength and courage to follow after her little troll as he determined to change the world for the better. It was a word that repeated endlessly in her think pan as she watched him inspire others, and transcend beyond the quadrants with his matesprit.

It was the word that kept her screaming and clawing at her captors so that she could save him—so that she could wrench those manacles from his wrists, and protect him from those jeering eyes, those fools who so eagerly drank in his pain. It was the word that caused her vascular pumping muscle to shrivel and twist in her chest cavity, and jade tears to escape her ocular orbs as she watched her little troll burn to ashes.

It was this word that left her with a dull ache in her chest cavity. Nothing her masters did to her ever compared to this cursed feeling. The physical wounds inflicted upon her meant nothing. Even the games her final master played did little in affecting her. Perhaps, had she lived longer, she may have started to feel something…

And it was this word, this feeling, this love that brought a relieved smile to her face as her master's kismesis had her killed. At long last…

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><p><em>No mother should ever outlive her wiggler.<em>


End file.
